


i fell in love with you one night in july

by Incertitude



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Comfort, First Love, Hand Job, Love Bites, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, shiro's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incertitude/pseuds/Incertitude
Summary: Shiro's night terrors are starting to be overwhelming for him, one night when he wakes from one he goes to the kitchen for the comfort of coffee and runs into Lance unexpectedly, as it turns out Lance has trouble sleeping too.





	i fell in love with you one night in july

**Author's Note:**

> i suddenly had an urge for this sort of fic, i love shiro falling in love with lance
> 
> (i'm really sorry it's so fucking long, i truly have no idea how that happened)

Shiro springs up from his bed, choking on a half formed shout, his arms rearing up in defence against the Galran gladiator charging at him—it vanishes when his blurry vision focuses.

He’s in his dark room, there’s no Galran brute, no arena, he’s not bleeding and staggering trying to catch a decent breath.

He pants slow and deep as he leans forward, sweating so much that his clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin. He’s burning up despite being clad in only a simple shirt and boxer briefs.

“It’s okay,” he says, not assured. Shoving the blanket off himself he turns, his legs falling off the bed to firmly press his feet to the cool floor. He can’t stop shaking, “it’s okay,” he repeats.

He can’t fall back asleep, he’s never able to after the night terrors that irregularly come. Coffee substitute sounds like a good idea instead of lying down and involuntarily dwelling on his trauma, some vigorous training is also a good idea to pass time. He inhales as he gets up, heading toward the kitchen for that cup of coffee hoping to calm down quickly.

He needs to find a good coping mechanism instead of just accepting his episodic sleep so easily, it’s too lonesome and daunting lying alone after disturbing memories seep into his defenceless dreams, perhaps Coran will have some helpful advice if he discusses this with him. Coran is a man of war, he could relate.

Holding his shaking human wrist he steps up to the kitchen doors, they whir open upon his close proximity. The lights are on, someone’s already inside.

“Oh,” Lance chirps, turning from where he was standing at the counter, previously hunching over it. The collar of his yellow shirt that probably belongs to Hunk is sagging over one of his boney shoulders. His legs are as long as always except this time they’re  _bare_ , the hem of his shirt partially stuck inside his standard black boxer shorts that make his already slim legs look even slimmer as they come out of the loose material, “hey,” Lance smiles, a drowsy charm radiating from him. He leans back against the counter, his slender fingers holding an Altean style mug with faint steam dancing into the air, “I’m just having some tea, I couldn’t sleep all that well.”

Lance looks absolutely… divine, vividly warm.

It’s stupefying, Shiro doesn’t know why since he sees Lance all the time.

What’s different?

“Uh,” Shiro finds his voice, he's calmer somehow, just from seeing Lance’s hair tufted up on one side, the side he sleeps on, “I came for coffee, couldn’t sleep either.”

Lance sets his mug aside, “are you okay?” he steps forward, reaching up and sweeping his fingers along Shiro’s forehead, pushing aside the bangs that clung to drying sweat. Lance’s fingers are soothing against his skin.

“Yeah,” Shiro stares down at Lance, he can see so clearly the deep blue colour of his eyes, easily noticing as his pupils fatten slightly around the edges, “just… night terrors,” he might as well be honest, nothing that happened to him is exactly a secret.

Lance takes his arm firmly, guiding him to a chair, “sit,” he says, pushing Shiro to sit on a high stool, “I’ll make you some tea instead, sleep is an important cycle.”

Shiro keenly watches Lance’s hand as it swiftly untucks the shirt from his underwear, the shirt hem falling to mid-thigh, however the edges of his boxers still show beneath the hem of the shirt. Shiro folds his arms on the counter, content as Lance hovers from cupboard to cupboard pulling various things out.

“Hunk has certain teas for certain purposes,” Lance explains as he looks at the labelling on each container, “this one helps you sleep,” he pops open the container plucking out a sachet filled with dry leaves, after dropping it into a mug he fills it with the boiled water he used earlier, “it tastes really good, naturally sweet and relieving,” he holds the mug with both hands as he brings it to Shiro, setting it down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Shiro nods at Lance, pulling the mug closer, he can already smell the aroma of the tea, the sachet floating around and colouring the water a pinkish tint. It does smell appealing, although he prefers the smell of real coffee this is still good.

“Keith is helping me with hand-to-hand combat training,” Lance explains after drinking from his mug, “I was with the sparring bots all day yesterday, I got wicked bruises.”

“Bruises?” Shiro inquires, he’s happy to hear about Lance’s training nevertheless, since he rarely hears about anyone’s private training. Maybe they can train together sometime, strengthen each other’s weak points.

Shiro takes a sip from his drink, the taste is pleasantly sweet, there's a sort of warm berry tang that coats his tongue.

“Yeah,” Lance steps away from the counter and pulls his shirt up to above his chest, the sudden action almost makes Shiro knock his mug over.

“Lance—” Shiro starts before he takes in the sight, there’s dark bruises blossoming on his stomach, even some on his chest, he can see the gentle expansions and contractions of Lance’s tummy as he breathes, his brown nipples small and pert, “shouldn’t you visit a healing pod for a little while?” he surprisingly has to resist the urge to reach out and touch Lance’s bared skin, as if he has the ability to erase the discomfort of Lance's bruises, to reverse the damage done.

“Nah,” Lance says, dropping his shirt to spread his legs open, tugging up the bottoms of his boxer shorts to better show Shiro the bruises on his thighs that trail down to his lower legs, “I have to learn to deal with the pain, I think, build tolerance.”

“Admirable,” Shiro says, watching the subtle jiggle of muscle as Lance closes his legs, releasing the shorts of his boxers as he steps back to his mug.

“Really?” Lance smiles, his eyes wide, proud.

“Really,” Shiro confirms, there’s a gentle loop of happiness between them as he watches Lance hide his smile behind his mug. Unusual, Lance usually smiles so openly, refreshing the energy when they’re all worn-out.

“How do you like the tea?” Lance asks, they’re nearly done their drinks.

“It’s actually good, are you drinking the same kind?”

“No, I’m drinking the one that helps with aches and pains, I got uncomfortable sleeping because of all the extra training I’m doing,” Lance shrugs a little, his fingers repositioning on his mug, his fingers are long and pretty. Shiro wants to hold them, play with them, whisper sweet praises to them in hopes that Lance will carry those whispers with him wherever he goes, whenever he feels sad and alone, “how often do you get the, ah, night terrors?” Lance’s voice comes out soft, not pressuring.

“Infrequently usually… but it’s been every night these past couple weeks,” Shiro rubs the back of his neck, tired all of a sudden. Unsure if it’s physical or mental exhaustion by now.

“Want to sleep in my room with me?” Lance purposes, his words coming out in haste, his back straightening.

Shiro’s head snaps up, Lance is staring at him innocently waiting for an answer. Shiro has tried this method before, with Keith, it didn’t really help since Keith kept rolling away from him or tossed and turned too much in his sleep. It just didn’t work, period.

“I mean,” Lance starts again, his cheeks colouring, “back at home when my nephew would get nightmares or when the monsters in his room would scare him he’d always sleep with me in my bed, it helped him,” his eyelashes flutter as he avoids eye contact, until they do finally make eye contact that’s soft focused and warm, “maybe it can help you.”

“Would that… would that be okay?” Shiro almost can’t keep the hopeful tone from his voice, this feels right somehow. His heart is light and fluttery when he thinks about lying close to Lance and falling asleep, it’s been so long since he’s felt anything like this. Has he even felt anything like this before?

“Definitely, it’s only a matter of choosing whose room you want to sleep in,” Lance tips his head back as he finishes his tea, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Shiro drinks the rest of his tea too, feeling rather in a hurry. When he’s done Lance takes the mug from him, putting both their mugs together on the counter after tossing out the used tea sachets.

“Would my room be okay?” Lance asks as he goes to the doors, they whir open and stay open while Lance waits for Shiro.

“Yeah,” he hasn’t gotten a chance to visit Lance’s room yet.

He follows behind as Lance walks ahead, leading the way to his room. From behind he can spot a thick line-shaped bruise behind his calves, from the staff that some sparring bots have.

“Excuse the mess,” Lance says when they enter his room.

Lance’s room looks already well lived in, alien posters and newspaper pages clinging to the walls in no particular order, interesting trinkets on his desk around ratty books that almost makes Shiro ask about them right away. He smiles when he sees a group picture of them on the wall above the desk, beside a picture of his family back home on Earth, next to that is a picture of Hunk, Lance and Pidge too—in their garrison uniforms.

This is Lance’s space, where he can be who he is, and Shiro is allowed to be here.

It’s something Shiro wants to treasure, though it isn’t a physical object, it’s a form of trust in his view.

“Here,” Lance says from the bed, he’s rearranging the pillows, putting some onto the floor so it isn’t too overwhelming for them while they sleep. Once it’s organized he scuttles under the blanket and lays down on his side, keeping the blanket open revealing the spot where Shiro will lay, “come, I’ll sleep behind you.”

Shiro’s heart feels like it might burst into butterflies when he crawls in, turning his back to Lance as he lies down.

Lance lowers the blanket down onto Shiro, “lights, zero percent,” he calls, the lights turn off as commanded.

Shiro is partially nervous as Lance comes closer from behind, his arm draping over the curve of Shiro’s waist as they close the gap between their bodies.

“Is this okay?” Lance asks, gentle against the nape of Shiro’s neck, his thighs coming up to meet the backs of Shiro’s.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, measured.

He’s stupidly scared of how much he’s enjoying this, it’s feeling like hope. He shuts his eyes, trying to be composed as Lance slides his arm further up Shiro’s chest, tucking it under his cybernetic arm. Shiro resists the urge to fill the gaps between Lance's fingers with his own, to hug Lance's thin arm closer.

“One tick, I’m going to put my other arm under your neck,” Lance explains, doing as he described, his arm sliding under Shiro’s neck, supporting it as it lays still now, “there we go…” Lance sighs, relaxing, his warm breath making Shiro’s blood tingle. They're both sharing a pillow.

He hasn’t been spooned before, he feels safe, secure.

When he focuses on Lance’s levelled breathing he finds himself unable to finish a thought process before being enveloped by sleep too.

* * *

 

When he wakes he isn’t startled, isn’t heaving in panic, his eyes just open peacefully. It takes a few ticks before he feels a slender arm twitch around him, Lance's relaxed hand resting over his left pectoral, a sleepy hum coming from behind him.

They haven’t moved from each other during the night, however the blankets are bunched up around them, their feet tangled together.

“Lance?” Shiro asks, calm.

“Eh..?” Lance responds sluggishly, just before Shiro was about to call his name once more.

“You okay?” Shiro probes.

“Uh,” Lance smacks his lips a little bit, “I should be asking you that,” his hand pats the center of Shiro’s chest reassuringly, “nothin’ scary happened?”

“No,” Shiro almost laughs, he’s immensely relieved, in fact he’s happy, refreshed.

“Good,” Lance smiles against Shiro’s nape, “that’s really good,” he slides his arm from under Shiro’s neck to sit up completely, bum on his feet, his thighs filling out as they press down into his calves, “man, my arm feels like static but it’s totally worth it if you got a good night’s sleep,” he yawns, stretching his arms above his head, muscles trembling as they tauten.

Shiro rolls onto his back, gazing up at Lance who looks elegant even while waking up. At this point he doesn’t believe that there’s a single bad angle of Lance, ever.

“I had a dream about this huuuge teddy bear,” Lance beams, stretching his arms out wide, “I was hugging it the whole dream then I woke up and I was still hugging the teddy bear.”

Shiro laughs at that, he hasn’t been compared to a teddy bear before. At least not to his face.

“Did the teddy bear meet your standards?” Shiro intertwines his fingers over his chest, interested.

Lance lolls his head back, looking up at the ceiling while taking a moment to think, “… above and beyond,” he grins when he looks back at Shiro, “the teddy also had some really nice firm boobs,” he gropes the air in front of his own chest then he turns his cupped hands toward Shiro’s chest, “wait.”

“Hey,” Shiro snorts and lifts his leg knocking it against Lance lightly, shaking his head when Lance dramatically falls over.

“Oh, man,” Lance sighs, closing his eyes as he sits back up, “I have to spar more bots today, at least I get to visit the medical wing at the end of the day.”

“Why not before you spar?”

“Keith said I should fight while injured, to learn how to manage battle while dealing with unhealed injuries.”

“That’s… intense, when did you begin training?” he’s concerned, seeing those bruises on Lance is off-putting, unnecessary.

“I began a week ago, Keith is a hound but what’s new,” Lance shrugs, he cranes his neck when he looks at the clock on the wall, “I gotta go soon,” he flops down onto the bed, groaning, “can you hold me this time?” he sounds childlike when asking this, expectant.

Shiro exhales through his nose quietly, adoring, “of course,” he pulls Lance’s lean body close, Lance folds up his arms against his chest and entirely burrows into Shiro’s body, eyes closed.

It reminds Shiro of the time he carried Lance around after he had protected Coran from the explosion, which was a chilling experience. Lance felt too light and limp in his arms, it’s good to be holding Lance in the healthy state he’s in now. Well, minus the bruising he’s taken on.

When the time comes Shiro reluctantly lets Lance go to train, observing as Lance darts around the room, in his element as he picks out his clothes. Lance disappears into the bathroom, popping out again after he's changed clothes, his bed hair endearingly unbothered.

“Feel free to use my shower or anything, see you later,” Lance says before he leaves the room in haste, waving a hand.

Shiro stays lying down for a while to bask in some sort of afterglow, when he rolls onto his stomach he takes in Lance’s distinct scent. It’s like a comforting woodsy smell, it’s soothing. He smells like summer.

He goes to his own room after being brave enough to inspect a few pretty and particular trinkets decorating Lance’s desk, he skips showering and changes clothes when he gets to his own room. Lance’s scent clinging to his skin as he meets Hunk for breakfast, they talk about plans of Hunk and Pidge teaming up to improve some features on the Lions with Allura’s supervision and approval.

When noon comes he prepares to exercise, normally he’d do this in his room but that’s easily overruled when he remembers that Lance is with Keith on the training deck.

He becomes jittery when he envisions Lance panting and sweating while training, exercising, it’s an unusual thrill down his back. It’s perplexing how quickly enamoured he’s become with Lance, just from spending a little time alone with him in the silence of the night. It’s not uneasy at all though, it feels completely natural to be in each other’s presence.

He’s dismayed as soon as the doors to the room open, Lance is panting heavily as he skitters around the room at an alarming speed, blocking and repelling constant attacks from the bot. The only vaguely relieving part is that the bot is wielding a simple staff and not a sword, Lance has a similar staff too.

“Focus!” Keith yells when Lance narrowly avoids getting hit, Lance’s breathing is sharp, his thin brows furrowed deeply.

Shiro strides to Keith’s side, his eyes never leaving Lance.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith greets, his firm gaze locked on Lance too.

“This seems too extreme, Lance is already injured from yesterday, he should be on a lower level for training not higher,” Shiro voices his concern, he never knew that Lance was dealing with this level of sparring.

“No, this is good for him,” Keith affirms, “he needs to endure.”

Shiro is unintentionally clenching his jaw, anger is forming fast in the pit of his stomach. Lance looks tired, though his movements are sharp Shiro can see the drag of his limbs.

“This is too much,” Shiro counters.

“It’s not,” Keith’s voice is hard, almost hostile.

Lance shouts in pain when the end of the bots’ staff connects to the side of his face, he staggers away, holding a hand over the spot that was hit, his staff clattering on the floor.

Just witnessing that has Shiro seething; he instantly steps forward until Keith yanks at his arm, “don’t.”

“End this now,” Shiro hardens his voice.

Lance raises his arms, a strangled noise stuck in his throat when the length of the bots’ staff whips against the backs of his forearms. Lance stumbles back from the force, his hands are shaking as he dives for his dropped staff.

“End this  _now_ , Keith,” Shiro repeats when Keith ignores him, he’s livid now, Keith is being too irresponsible.

Shiro’s patience snaps when Lance gets kicked in the stomach just after standing up, falling backwards, the back of his head hitting the floor, a noise forced from his stomach and up his throat from the kick.

“ _End training sequence!_ ” Shiro roars, the bot vanishing but his fury remains.

“What are you doing?!” Keith yells, grabbing Shiro in alarm.

Lance is lying on the floor, curled up on himself, desperately trying to steady his breathing now that the bot is gone.

Shiro grips Keith’s shoulders, crushingly tight, “you are being too irresponsible and reckless, Lance isn’t you Keith, he hasn’t had this type of training before,” he can’t stop the hard tone in his voice, the leader in him wanting to fiercely protect Lance, not even that, he himself wants to protect Lance selfishly, “until you have a clear head you aren’t training Lance anymore and whatever training plans you come up with you  _will_  run them by me, got it?”

Keith is wide eyed, silent, stunned, “y… yeah, I got it.”

Shiro releases Keith and treads to Lance who is still on the floor in a small ball, “Lance,” Shiro says, gentle, “I’m taking you to a healing pod,” he kneels down as he gradually scoops up Lance, holding him in his arms much like a bride would be carried.

“Shiro?” Lance says, anxious, “I-I can still fight.”

When Lance looks at him Shiro’s chest tightens painfully, the corner of Lance’s mouth is bleeding, cheek swelling up. He’s surprised he hasn’t lost any teeth.

“No, as leader I’m saying you’re done for now, you need rest and healing,” Shiro holds Lance even closer, Lance finally gives in and curls in against Shiro, his breathing steadier. Shiro doesn’t remember ever pulling the ‘leader’ card on anything before, right now he’s thankful for his senior rank.

Lance’s feet bob up and down as Shiro plods towards the exit. Shiro gives Keith a disappointed look; they need to talk about this properly after Lance is healed. Keith averts his eyes, shamefully.

Shiro takes his time bringing Lance to the medical wing, if he walks too fast and jostles Lance he’ll groan quietly, his fists tightening on Shiro’s vest. His slender fingers are bruised too.

“You’ll need to stay in the pod overnight,” Shiro explains when taking off Lance’s boots, helping him strip down to his customary boxer briefs, once stripped Lance gets into the suit meant for patients who are staying in the pod.

“Will you be okay?” Lance asks when he’s dressed and prepped.

“Me?”

“Yeah, overnight without me,” Lance sounds genuinely concerned, despite blood drying at the corner of his mouth, his speaking faintly slurred making Shiro want to open up Lance's mouth to inspect his tongue.

Shiro didn’t even think about himself and his night terrors.

“I will be fine,” he assures, though he isn’t actually sure, “I’ll be here in the morning when you come out.”

Lance nods, hesitant.

Shiro sighs deeply once Lance gets pulled under the trance of the pod when it activates, his eyes sliding shut, face and body relaxing.

Shiro puts his hands on the window of the pod, admiring Lance for a few dobashes before deciding it’s time to leave, “see you soon, buddy,” he says, gathering Lance’s clothes and shoes in his arms, walking away.

He stops near the entrance when Keith enters the room.

“Shiro,” Keith says, quietly, rubbing his arm, “I’m—“

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says quick, cutting off Keith, “I’m sorry for losing my temper like that with you, I was just worried about Lance… I know your intentions were good ones,” he glances back at Lance, “besides, you shouldn’t be apologizing to me, apologize to Lance tomorrow when he’s done his healing cycle.”

Keith nods, remorseful, “alright.”

Shiro pats Keith’s shoulder on his way out of the room.

* * *

 

When it’s dinner Hunk is the first to ask, “where’s Lance?” he’s dishing out the food he made, new foods featured on the plates.

“Uh,” Shiro shares a look with Keith, “he’s—“

“He’s in a healing pod,” Keith interrupts, gripping his fork tightly, “I… worked him too hard in training and he... got injured.”

Hunk’s upset frown worsens, it resonates with Shiro, no one likes letting Hunk down. It’s one of the worst things to do.

“How bad is he?” Pidge asks, taking her food portion from Hunk when it’s held out.

“The bot hit his face with the sparring staff and he got kicked in the stomach, his head also hit the floor too,” Shiro explains with vague hand gestures, there are other injuries but those were the worst Lance had received to his knowledge.

Hunk huffs solemnly as he plunks down Keith’s food, “I will make him something tomorrow when he’s done healing,” he concludes when he takes his seat, “something special.”

* * *

 

When it’s time to sleep Shiro goes back to his own room, it’s a strange room, filled with nothing but necessities. It’s not as magical as Lance’s room, not as inviting. He considers going to sleep in Lance’s room instead but he doesn’t exactly have permission for that.

He changes into his sleepwear, shirt and boxer briefs. He crawls into his own bed, lying on his back.

Maybe this is a good thing, having something as extraordinary as Lance’s presence in careful moderation. It’s not like he can sleep with Lance every night, surely even Lance's nephew didn't abuse that kind of salvation.

He reaches beside himself grabbing Lance’s jacket that he brought to bed with him, he hugs it with the soft hood pressed to his face. The material smells amazing, just like Lance.

He falls asleep but his dreams aren’t kind.

He’s back in that dreadful arena, he’s struggling with keeping himself up, every level of exhausted with back-to-back battles.

There’s one more fight to be had, once he defeats the opponent he’ll be able to rest for the night, if possible maybe the entire next day.

When the doors for the next opponent open the person behind them steps back in surprise, the Galra behind the person shoves them forward and out so the doors can shut again.

“ _Shiro?_ ” Lance says, voice is a frightened rasp, he’s wearing Galran prisoner clothes, just the same as Shiro.

Shiro begins to hyperventilate, sweat running cold, his chest in pain as if his heart were frozen and shattered within, “ _Lance..._ ” he says stepping away from Lance, his knees ready to give out, “ _no!_ ” he screams, desperately looking for the guard who manages the arena, the crowd of the arena is being too loud with their cheering. It’s hurting his head, forehead throbbing.

“ _Fight to the death!_ ” the guard barks above all voices, still not visible.

Shiro is gripping his short blade with his sweaty palm, Lance doesn’t even have a weapon.

“ _No!_ ” Shiro moans, his eyes burning with tears that fill in his eyes, managing not to fall down his face. His vision obscure.

Lance stares at him, his eyes are wide, horrified. Their shared stare feels like hours long, but it’s only moments long until Lance’s face pinches up as if he were in physical pain, he runs toward Shiro, kicking up dust.

Shiro jerks back, hand rising in kneejerk reaction, startled that Lance is trying to fight up till the moment Lance slams his whole body against Shiro's, those tears filling his eyes rush down his face. Lance makes a ragged wet sound, the weapon in Shiro’s hand shoving back into his grip. Long arms wrap tight around his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his shirt.

“ _Wait_ ,” Shiro says staggering back with Lance still against him, “ _wait_ ,” he’s terrified of looking between them, there’s something hot seeping into the front his clothes, over his hand.

Lance makes a gurgled noise, his face resting against Shiro’s neck, hiding, “ _okay, you.. you’ll be okay_ ,” his trembling hands slide up to press against his neck. Shiro's other arm hooked around Lance.

“ _Wait, wait_ ,” Shiro says, a broken record, his breath is choppy as he breathes out. Who is he asking to wait?

He finally looks down, between them, the weapon in his hand is inside of Lance’s stomach, all the way to the worn out hilt, he inhales hard, holding the air in his lungs, “ _oh_ ,” his voice is strangled, still holding in his breath, lungs burning.

His knees buckle, he falls down with Lance frighteningly limp against him, Shiro's eyes are streaming thick tears now, carefully he leans Lance back cradling his small head in his palm. Lance is half lidded, unseeing, his mouth open, jaw slack, revealing blood covered teeth and tongue, “ _wait—_ “

“ ** _Lance!_** ” Shiro awakens abruptly, sitting forward in his bed, sweat rolling down his face. He’s breathing in fast and harsh, looking around the dark room, “ _fuck!_ ” he screams so loud it hurts his throat, throwing a pillow across the room in pure frustration, his other hand still clutching Lance’s jacket, “fuck…” he wipes his face with his hand then pushes his bangs back.

He’s definitely not going to sleep again after that.

To ease his rattled nerves he immediately heads to the medical wing, needing to see Lance to confirm that he’s really okay. His skin is beginning to itch from his sweat drying, clothes still damp. The surroundings are quiet except for the patter of his bare feet on the floor, his throat feels uncomfortably tight when the doors hum as they open, revealing the single pod in use.

Lance looks healed already, the wounds on his face gone, his skin supple and glowing.

Shiro checks the vitals on the window of Lance’s pod, he’s completely healed, he’s just in the resting stage of the healing cycle. He feels impatient, wanting to open up the pod just to have Lance in his arms, to be in Lance’s arms.

He folds his arms across his chest to keep himself from doing anything rash, now only taking in the sight of Lance.

Lance’s short bangs are elegantly swaying in the levitation, he wants to touch them, feel the softness between his fingertips. Has he ever touched Lance’s hair before? Lance’s eyelashes are full and pretty as they rest on the tops of his cheeks. And,  _oh_ , Lance’s skin, he’s the pure definition of radiance.

Shiro inhales, his eyebrows pressing together, “Lance I—… I think— _no_ ,” he interrupts himself, “I know…  I love you,” he says with such gentleness, not wanting to disturb the peace that settled in here, “I love you so much, you mean so much to me,” his throat tightens somewhat.

He wants Lance to know this, he wants Lance to know the sincerity of what he’s feeling, how Lance has completely enchanted Shiro’s soul. Through and through.

Shiro stiffens when the doors to the room open.

“Oh,” Hunk says as he strides in, boots heavy on the floor, he’s wearing his long sleeved shirt and baggy pants as usual, not wearing his outerwear, “hey there, how’s Lance?” Hunk comes to stand beside Shiro.

Shiro’s neck and face heats up, he just gave his first confession of love that would have been discovered by Hunk if he had kept babbling to Lance’s pod, “he’s, uh, healed up. Just sleeping now.”

“That’s good,” Hunk says, relieved, staring at Lance, “I’m just working on a dessert he likes from home.”

“A dessert?”

“Yeah, he’d tell me the desserts his auntie would make, he’d always rave on about one in particular,” Hunk laughs, “I’m working on it now, trying to get it perfect. I’m working with foreign foods so it’s a bit challenging, but I’m getting close to a perfect one, well, the perfect off earth one.”

Shiro pats Hunk’s back, “Lance will love it, regardless of perfection.”

Hunk smiles at him, “you’ll take him to his room after he gets out?”

“Yes,” Shiro nods.

They clasp hands briefly before Hunk leaves, the doors shutting behind him.

Shiro is notably calmer in Lance’s presence so he stays, watching Lance and how his short bangs float in a heavenly manner.

He easily loses track of time while waiting, dissociating.                                                  

The timeless trance Shiro’s in vanishes the instant Lance’s pod hisses as the window dissolves, sterile vapor disappearing into the air. A gasp falls from Shiro as he’s quick to step forward, embracing Lance’s lithe body when Lance falls forward, “hey,” he says, happiness wells inside him when Lance blinks up at him, “Lance,” Shiro sinks to the floor, pulling Lance to sit on his lap while cradling him in his arms.

“Shiro,” Lance responds, not a question, he’s just saying his name.

“How do you feel, Sharpshooter?” Shiro asks, his fingers brushing Lance’s bangs back, subconsciously acting on his bottled up desire.

“Way better than before,” Lance laughs, his head resting against Shiro’s expansive shoulder, “how long were you here for? You’re still in your pyjamas,” he picks at the front of Shiro’s baggy shirt.

“Lance,” Shiro says, delicately.

It’s a loud realization that he’s holding someone so precious, within reach, never out of reach. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to hesitate because hesitating is just the same as letting go.

“Yeah?” Lance tilts his head back, looking up at Shiro, his expression unguarded. He looks so much like a boy. His eyes are glossy, sharp, infinite.

Shiro cups the back of Lance’s small head and leans in, pressing their lips together. Lance tastes like exhilaration, warmth, like revival. It makes Shiro shake, especially when he fleetingly feels the wetness of Lance’s little tongue.

“Shiro,” Lance says, voice cracking in half when Shiro pulls back from the kiss, fearfully ready to take in whatever reaction Lance will give.

“I’m-I’m,” Shiro’s heart is hammering, he can’t think properly after kissing Lance. It’s like being given only a sip of the purest water when thirst is killing you, nothing more than a single sip.

“Kiss me again,” Lance says, eyebrows furrowing, lips pressing together cutely.

“What?” Shiro feels like he just got punched in the stomach, forcing air from his lungs.

“If you don’t kiss me again I’ll-I’ll kill you,” Lance tugs hard on Shiro’s shirt, ripping out all and any composure Shiro had.

A moan erupts from Shiro as he hugs Lance crushingly close as they kiss again, gulping that pure water in abandon, this time their mouths open to let their tongues slip together. Lance’s slim hands cup Shiro’s face as they keep pulling back only to reconnect their lips, desperate to kiss each other over and over.

Shiro can’t stop himself when his hands slide to Lance’s back, finding the seams to Lance’s suit, he rips the backing of the suit apart like a savage, aching to touch Lance's skin directly. The sound of tearing fabric zips through the air, Lance’s shocked moan is like a scorching drop of arousal, falling through Shiro going straight to his cock.

“Shiro,” Lance weeps beautifully, his arms slipping out of the sleeves when Shiro tugs the top of the suit down, baring Lance’s chest. Lance lies back on the floor as Shiro slots himself between Lance’s legs that are still wrapped in the leggings of the bodysuit.

Lance’s nipples are so lovely, like the rest of him, Shiro can’t resist his urges this time, he kisses down Lance’s heated skin until his lips wrap around his left nipple. He suckles, the nipple rising between his teeth, he flicks his tongue over the hardened bud.

Lance’s back arches as his high pitched gasp echoes in the room, he shudders hard, slapping a hand over his own mouth as his other hand runs through Shiro’s short hair. Encouraging his actions.

Shiro sucks harder, his teeth pressing more firmly around soft skin. This causes Lance to buck his hips up, his restrained erection bumping into Shiro’s hard midsection.

“No!” Lance yelps, Shiro immediately pops off of Lance’s nipple, leaving it slick with his saliva.

“Lance?” Shiro inquires, concerned.

Lance covers his face with both hands, trembling, “my… my body is overly sensitive from being inside the pod, I feel high… I’m going crazy,” his chest is rising and falling fast.

Shiro feels like an entirely different person as he begins to yank down the rest of Lance’s body suit, until it’s completely off, taking boxer briefs with it.

Lance lifts his knees, pressing them together once his body is completely free from the skin tight suit, his long legs an enticing sight. Carefully Shiro picks up one of Lance’s shaky feet, extending the length of his leg, “you’re a sight to behold, Lance,” Shiro murmurs, lifting Lance’s leg, speaking this endearment against the bone of his ankle. He presses short loving kisses up Lance’s leg, relieved to see no lingering bruises. Lance twitches to each kiss, especially when they reach his inner thigh, where Shiro’s gentle kisses transform into open mouthed suckles.

Lance is panting into his hand, muffling his breathy moans, the sounds he’s making become shocked  _ah_ ’s when Shiro’s head dips lower between his thighs. Shiro is scraping his teeth teasingly along the sensitive skin of Lance’s inner thigh, feeling muscles twitch beneath velvet skin. Lance’s cock is resting on his hip, it’s achingly full with a gentle curve, weeping precome onto his quivering stomach. Lance’s skin smells vaguely sterile, no doubt an effect from the pod.

Shiro abruptly bites into Lance’s jiggly thigh, he stifles a guttural groan in his throat when Lance’s whole body jolts in reaction, Lance lets out a provocative wail, his breathing louder and more unsteady, “ _Takashi!_ ” Lance sobs when Shiro licks over the fresh wound on his thigh, tasting iron in the small amount of blood that beads out of the wound, he proceeds to create harsh hickeys around the bite mark, bringing them to the top of Lance's thigh. Hearing his given name come from Lance’s mouth evokes a shockwave through Shiro’s butterfly-filled chest. Lance tastes incredible, it’s terribly intoxicating to be intimately smelling and tasting Lance like this, legs quaking in his palms.

Lance reaches down, beginning to fist his cock in earnest, body jumping at each surge of pleasure that overtakes him while Shiro takes his time appreciating Lance’s thighs.

Shiro’s own erection is pressing urgently against the confining fabric of his tight boxer briefs, leaking in reaction to the wet sounds of Lance jerking himself while Shiro is busy marking up Lance’s thighs with love marks.

Shiro is starting to think he’s getting too out of control when he loses count of the marks he’s making obsessively, dark hickeys adorning Lance’s right thigh, only two serious bite marks, Shiro’s teeth breaking skin a little. He turns his head beginning again on the other neglected thigh,  _fuck_ , he can do this all day, he wants to. So badly. Lance is trembling like a leaf, thighs jiggling as they stay in place, wanting Shiro’s damaging affection.

Lance occasionally stops moving his hand to grip securely around the base, his cock jolting in agony when denied release, Lance’s back arching up hard as he babbles nonsense that fills the empty space of the room. His other hand covers his open mouth until he slips his own fingers inside, allowing drool to smear over his chin and lips.

Shiro is panting too as he harshly sucks and more mercifully bites Lance’s thigh, half out of his mind when he views his work of art. Wet bruises developing on brown skin, darkening further as time passes, saliva drying, most likely leaving behind a cooling sensation. He pushes Lance’s knees up and apart as he finally focuses on what’s between them. Lance still has his hand firm around the girth of his cock, his balls raised high, contracting as they anticipate eventual release that’s been cruelly teased, below is Lance’s puckered asshole, clenching wonderfully in want. Shiro wants to lick it, work it open until it’s gaping.

Lance’s hand gradually starts to move again, strings of pre dripping from the tip. Shiro times this flawlessly, canine teeth grazing threateningly against Lance’s left thigh, his eyes observing Lance’s hand. Moments after Lance quickens his pace Shiro bites down hard on the thigh in his form grip.

Lance shouts; hiccupping in a passionate sob when his come spurts out in a powerful surge, white ribboning over his chest and stomach, a dot reaching his chin. Lance works quick to pump out the rest of his release, body a shaking mess as he sobs into the palm of his hand.

Shiro licks slow over the fresh bite mark, his cock is excruciatingly stiff, his own hips shaky.

Lance is weeping now, trying hard to steady his breathing as he lets go of his calming dick, though it’s still hard it’s less demanding of attention.

“Fuhh…” Lance breathes out, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape beneath his fingers.

Shiro sweeps his tongue over the bite one more time, before he meets Lance face-to-face he continues with his tender kisses as he trails them to Lance’s quivering stomach. He hotly licks up a stripe of Lance’s come and then another stripe, it’s bitter but Shiro loves it because it's the essence of Lance.

Lance’s hands rest on Shiro's head while Shiro licks up all of his come decorating his torso, occasionally sucking on the supple skin of his stomach. Lance’s stomach is so smooth, plush, and cute. Shiro’s lips are sore when he finally licks up the glob of come on Lance’s chin.

“You-you…” Lance’s voice is feeble, he grabs Shiro by his ears, guiding him up to meld their lips together. Little tongue surging into Shiro’s larger mouth, sharing a deliciously bitter taste between them, “… you make me crazy.”

“You’re really crying,” Shiro observes out loud in awe when he leans back to properly look at Lance.

Lance’s eyelashes are damp with tears, streaks trailing down to his ears and some down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Lance laughs breathlessly, sniffling a little, “those bites really fucking hurt,” he runs his thumbs over Shiro’s cheek bones, “but they felt insanely good too… though I think you’re actually killing me, like, my heart actually feels like it might stop if I’m a victim of one of your barbaric bites again.”

Shiro can’t contain his wide smile, he laughs quietly, dipping his head to peck Lance’s lips then his chin, going down to Lance's delicate neck. Lance’s natural smell is becoming more prominent now.

“But to die in your arms is such a heavenly way to die,” Lance says, sincerely, petting Shiro’s white bangs as Shiro presses his lips to Lance’s throat, feeling the vibrations when Lance speaks.

Shiro is instantly brought back to his nightmare, of Lance dying in his arms in the arena, from Shiro’s own weapon. Though it didn’t actually happen it’s still disturbing, Shiro involuntarily goes rigid, jerking back to stare down at Lance.

“Hey,” Lance says, careful and sweet, his voice so very boyish. His slender hands rest on the sides of Shiro’s neck, sliding up to cup his thick well-defined jaw, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Shiro says in habit, then he melts, leaning his face into one of Lance’s small palms, “I-I… had a dream, well, a nightmare last night.”

“Want to tell me what happened?” Lance asks, stroking his thumb along Shiro’s cheek, supportively.

“You were in the Galra arena with me as a prisoner…” he hesitates, “you died in my arms, by my own blade.”

Lance’s expression shows his understanding, maybe even appreciating Shiro’s honesty, “that will never happen,” Lance says, assuredly, “you and I are in the Castle of Lions right now, Black and Blue Paladins, defenders of the universe,” he bit by bit brings Shiro closer, pressing his lips against Shiro’s ear, whispering, “I’m here… safe in your arms…” his voice is absolutely angelic, eliciting shivers down Shiro’s back, “… you just made me have the most intense orgasm of my life,” he smiles against Shiro’s ear then flicks his tongue along the shell of it.

Shiro shudders hard, groaning, eyes pinching shut. His cock is heavy, ready to burst. Shiro’s eyes snap open when Lance reaches down between their bodies, curling his fingers under the weight of Shiro’s balls, palming up to grip around the shape of Shiro’s erection through the fabric of his underwear.

“I want this,” Lance nips teasingly at the lobe of Shiro’s ear, “you gonna give it to me?”

Shiro bucks his hips down into Lance’s hand, the tops of his bare thighs are pressing against the hot skin beneath Lance's spread thighs, “ah!” he hisses, the front of his boxer briefs are damp with his pre.

Lance exhales slow against Shiro’s ear causing goosebumps to rise on Shiro’s flesh, he cradles Shiro’s head with his other hand as his hand between them slips past the waistband of Shiro’s underwear skillfully.

Shiro is gut punched again when Lance wraps his hand around Shiro’s bare dick, his dick convulses, excited for the sudden attention.

“So big,” Lance whines, pumping his hand over Shiro’s aching cock firmly, “so hot,” he licks Shiro’s ear again.

Shiro is struggling to hold back his needy moans, to stop himself from coming too soon. It’s unbearable being this close to Lance, overpowering his logic.

Like a dam breaking Shiro gives in and begins to piston his hips, Lance in response tightens up his grip while Shiro fucks his hand. Shiro pants into Lance’s jaw while Lance presses encouraging kisses against the side of his face.

“Mmh!” Shiro furrows his brows, he can feel his balls preparing for his orgasm that’s approaching painfully fast, “I-I can’t, Lance,” he says, lost, his heartbeat is pounding in his ears.

“Come,” Lance says, eagerly, “come for me, come  _on_  me, baby,” his voice is warm and enticing.

Shiro whimpers hard when he comes, just from having Lance whisper to him like this. Lance’s hand fists Shiro’s cock diligently now, helping each spurt of come out, Shiro’s come lands on Lance’s stomach. Lance makes a soft whimper noise too, mouthing heavily at the pulse in Shiro’s thick neck.

Shiro’s arms are trembling, he leans up when he gets eom energy back, locking his elbows, bumping his forehead gently against Lance’s jaw, “fuck,” he exhales deeply, his dick twitches in the aftermath of his orgasm. His body jerks when Lance rubs his thumb over the tip of his sensitive dick.

“That was… mind blowing,” Lance says, giddy, he’s smiling, almost laughing, “you came so much,” he notes when he looks down at himself.

“S-sorry,” Shiro sits back abruptly, ass on the heels of his feet, his face heats up. He tucks his dick back into his underwear. He just came on Lance, the Blue Paladin. It’s shameful considering he’s the leader.

“I wanted it,” Lance defends, glowing, his stomach curling into cute rolls as he sits up, “can we… do more?”

Shiro locks eyes with Lance, there’s something blistering in the air between them, “yes,” he says, he leans in, “yes,” he repeats against Lance’s lips.

Lance smiles and kisses the corner of Shiro’s mouth gratefully, “wanna go to my room? I have some lube we could use there and I’d prefer not to be caught like this, it looks like I was assaulted.”

“Yes,” Shiro says, apparently not knowing any other word. His heart beats faster whenever Lance stares at him with such a new intimate air, like Lance knows all his secrets.

“I don’t suppose you brought me clothes?” Lance questions, glancing around the empty space behind Shiro.

“Uh,” Shiro stalls, reality washing over him. He’s embarrassed, guilty, “I’m sorry, I didn’t.”

Lance grabs the torn body suit, plucking his underwear from it before using the suit to wipe off the semen on his belly, “I can’t put the suit on since my thighs are too sensitive for something so tight.”

“Sorry, again,” Shiro takes Lance’s hand when Lance reaches it out to him, Shiro stands while helping Lance rise up to his own feet.

“Don’t be,” Lance’s legs are wibbly and just seeing that alone turns Shiro on again. Lance uses Shiro for support when he pulls on his own boxer briefs, inhaling sharply when they pass over his abused thighs. Shiro admits internally that he got too carried away when he comprehends the harshness of his love bites, he seriously considers putting Lance back into the pod to heal them.

“Here,” Shiro says, yanking off his shirt and holding it out to Lance, having no qualms about nearly being nude if it’s for the sake of Lance’s comfort, “wear this for now.”

Lance gladly accepts the shirt, bunching it up and pressing it to his face, “you smell so good,” his eyelashes flutter.

It makes Shiro flustered, feeling like his heart dangerously skipped a couple beats, he’s not even wearing deodorant right now, “you smell even better,” Shiro says, stepping closer, hand sliding over the angle of Lance's hip.

Lance peers up at him, his eyebrows twitch together as he grins shyly, his cheeks flushed rose, “thanks,” he looks down, at Shiro’s torso, “fuck,” he says, aghast, “there is  _no_  way those abs are legit,” he says, spontaneously slapping Shiro’s solid abdomen.

“Ah!” Shiro gasps, shoulders jumping in surprise to the slap.

“You’re a fucking wall, dude,” Lance runs his fingers over Shiro’s stomach, playing with the dips of his abs.

Shiro’s laugh bursts out, pleased that Lance is so amused. Lance's touches are a bit ticklish, especially when he traces some raised scars.

“Anyway,” Lance clears his throat as if to break himself out of his own trance, hurrying into the gray shirt Shiro supplied him with, “let’s go to my room quickly, before we’re seen half naked with evidence all over my thighs and your neck.”

“My neck?” Shiro blinks, Lance immediately averts his eyes.

Shiro didn’t even notice that Lance was sucking hickeys on his neck, too caught up in the power of his orgasm that brutally ripped through him. Shiro glows, beyond euphoric over the fact that he has marks from Lance. It solidifies what they’ve done here.

Shiro steps back, taking in the sight of Lance wearing his shirt. The wrinkled shirt looks stretched out on him, nearly covering the fact he’s wearing any underwear at all beneath it, his collarbone peeking out the loose collar of the shirt.

“Make haste,” Lance says, scooping up the rag of a body suit, disposing of it through the trash chute in the room, “I’ll walk behind you for cover,” Lance strategizes, peeking out into the hall when the doors slide open, “go first, it’s clear.”

Shiro is biting back his grin when he walks out, despite being only in his underwear he's not worried, he’s paying more attention to Lance—it’s admittedly entertaining seeing Lance on high alert over this situation.

Lance walks close behind Shiro, left hand shoving down the front hem of the shirt attempting to hide some of his thighs, with his right hand he reaches out, sliding his fingers against Shiro’s left palm.

Shiro immediately takes hold of the shaky hand.

Everything is so startling fresh and new between them, uncharted, so many things to explore now with their recently changed relationship. Though left unspoken the bond is there, it's strong.

Shiro now has the privilege of kissing Lance before and after every mission they take, finally having someone to find deep comfort in, to love and be loved in return. Someone to share the intimate parts of himself with.

Lost in the excitement of his thoughts that birth new and more exciting thoughts Shiro becomes reckless and forgets to scout around the corner before turning it.

There's two shocked yelps, one from Keith when he runs into Shiro's bare chest and another from Lance who bumps into Shiro's arm.

"Oh," Shiro says dumbly, unsure of how to handle this immediately, wanting the ability to cloak Lance who's already petrified by their appearance alone. Shiro is sure being caught nearly naked with the leader of Voltron by Keith is the last thing Lance ever wants to happen—yet here it is, happening. He guesses that Keith heard Lance already, however he still attempts to nudge Lance more behind him, out of view.

Lance is shoving the hem of the loose shirt further down over his thighs desperately, it's futile even if he hunches his shoulders.

"Shiro?" Keith steps away, wide eyed, "you—you're, uh, wow," Keith looks even more baffled the more he takes in Shiro's appearance, almost completely naked if not for his underwear that doesn't exactly hide what he's packing, "Lance?" he pipes up, confirming Shiro's guess, "are you okay?" he asks, concerned, painfully oblivious to the situation.

Lance tries to step further away when Keith moves around Shiro to see the other teen more clearly, Shiro would have blocked Keith but Keith moves damn fast when he wants to, "I'm—I just want to tell you that I—" the sincere sentence he's trying to form dissolves completely when he spots Lance's shockingly manhandled thighs, "did the pod not work!?" Keith exclaims, diving down and grabbing Lance's thighs to inspect the bruises, clearly believing that they're still from training.

Lance shouts and stumbles back, falling down. Shiro tightens his grip on Lance's hand more firmly to prevent this but Lance ultimately sags to the floor, releasing his clutch on the hem of his shirt, the hem falling loose over his crotch while his now free hand flattens on the floor, his other hand still in Shiro's grip. His weakened legs spread wide as Keith forces himself closer for a better look, visibly concerned.

"Oh," Keith breaths, spotting the horrid bite marks that unapologetically reveals what actually happened, " _oh_ ," Keith understands now, face and neck a brilliant pink glow, "uh."

Shiro acts now, releasing Lance's hand before crouching and pulling Lance up to his feet, "Lance still isn't feeling well enough to socialize at the moment, he will come for dinner after resting a while longer," he tries guiding Lance back behind him but Lance moves faster, already glued to Shiro's back pressing his forehead between Shiro's shoulder blades.

Keith is standing too, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, "I'll go let the others know, about Lance.. resting," he deftly avoids eye contact, embarrassment seeping from him, "ah, Lance? Do you want to use my jacket?" he asks, already beginning to shimmy it off his shoulders.

"That won't be necessary," Shiro says, unintentionally aggressive, his hand raised to stop Keith's actions. He's suddenly embarrassed now, absorbing the embarrassment coming from Keith, his jealousy was too obvious, "we—he's almost to his room anyways, thanks for letting the others know about Lance resting," he nods then turns around, Lance scrambles a little in panic before turning too, walking in front of Shiro, out of Keith's immediate view.

When they round the corner Shiro impulsively scoops Lance up, sturdy arms under Lance's knees and around his upper back.

"Whoa!" Lance gasps, knees jerking for a second, his slim arms wind around Shiro's neck and shoulders for added security.

"This is the quickest way," Shiro offers his reasoning, although it is the quickest way he just wants Lance all to himself, almost irrationally mad that Keith saw Lance looking so ravishing, that he touched the bare skin of Lance's legs. It makes him feel foolishly possessive, as if he were a child who found the prettiest trinket, hiding it under his pillow, keeping its effortless brilliance away from everyone—including close friends.

Something he wants for himself only.

Lance stares ahead, down the hall, as Shiro continues walking, "I think I can get used to this," Lance coos, swinging his feet lazily as he relaxes in Shiro's hold, "I actually kind of feel like royalty, being carried by my personal knight to my royal bedchambers."

"I seem like a personal knight to you?" Shiro swallows his amused laugh.

"Of course," Lance looks at him now, he's still glowing post-pod, "a prince should always have an honourable and dependable guard..." he grins, using his arms to pull himself up to Shiro's ear, lips a tickle to the shell of it, "... a protector that secretly fucks the prince’s pampered brains out when night falls," he says this so close to Shiro's ear it makes the hairs on his neck stand and his blood tingle.

Shiro can't hold back a little whimper of a noise that slips from him, he tightens his hold on Lance. Shiro visualizes what Lance was openly fantasizing about. It heats his belly when he thinks of another world where he's grunting as he thrusts into Prince Lance, Lance who's adorned with the finest materials and delicate jewelry to compliment the tone of his beautiful brown skin. Both of them in a ridiculously oversized bed with silk sheets and too many pillows, Lance's long legs sticking in the air as his seemingly honourable knight is mercilessly thrusting his hips down, sweating while fucking—

"You're imagining it—" Lance is leaning back, smiling wide as he says this, knowing it to be a fact and not a guess.

Shiro clears his throat, face warming, "so?"

"Maybe we can act it out?" Lance drawls, not shaming Shiro for imagining it, probably not even feeling that Shiro is growing hard again, "some acting, some costumes, a little bit of setup and we have our other world, easy," Lance’s laugh is such a little thing, airy.

Shiro glues to the phrasing ‘ _our other world_ ’ instantly, Lance says it with such ease that Shiro wants to be in their own world now, without possibility of running into the other Paladins. He gets carried away with the thought, distantly thinking of a house as a metaphor for their other world that they’d get together once they retire, where Lance and Shiro can host family dinners, where they can love each other without limiting the display.

They make it to Lance's room without another unwanted encounter. Lance reaches down and taps nimble, healed, fingers over the screen next to his doors. When they glide open Shiro walks in, "lights one hundred percent," he says as he goes to the bed. The doors shutting in the background as he lays Lance on the bed, crawling over him.

Lance pulls Shiro into a needy kiss as he lies back tugging Shiro down as well, Shiro breathes out through his nose when Lance's hands firmly cup Shiro’s jaw while they press their lips together. 

"I finally have you," Lance says as his hands slide down the bulk of Shiro's arms, the form of his cybernetic arm mirroring the shape of his real arm.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asks dumbly, "it's me who finally has you," he slots himself carefully between Lance's thighs again. They’re beautiful, bearing Shiro’s physical love and lust.

“We’ve been pining after each other this whole time?” Lance sounds disbelieving as he tugs back the waistband of Shiro’s boxer briefs then playfully lets it snap back against Shiro’s hips.

“Pining after each other?” Shiro repeats, his stomach fluttery, flinching from the slap of his waistband.

Lance stalls for a second, “shh, it’s nothing, just… touch me more,” he licks his way into Shiro’s mouth when it opens wordlessly, their kiss wide and sloppy as Shiro’s hands slide under Lance’s shirt, over his smooth stomach.

They pull apart from the kiss to breathe, Lance caresses the side of Shiro’s face, “what do you wanna do?” he asks this as he mouths at the angled corner of Shiro’s jaw, making Shiro aware of how sensitive he is there, delicate pleasure flowing in his chest.

Shiro is busy petting the sides of Lance’s thighs, still trying to catch up to the reality of their relationship, “ah,” he swallows when Lance presses his kisses down Shiro’s throat, “can I lick you?” he doesn’t know how to ask properly.

“Lick me where?” Lance flicks his tongue over Shiro’s lips.

“Your ass,” Shiro says, so bluntly that it even shocks him, he chases Lance’s tongue briefly, missing it, “if.. you’re okay with that.”

Lance’s eyebrows pop up for second, his cheeks colour that pretty rose shade again, “yeah,” he breathes, his eyes shifting quickly as he looks Shiro in the eyes, “what position?”

“You, over me,” Shiro yanks off Lance’s boxer briefs, forgetting the strength he possesses when he accidentally jostles Lance while removing his underwear. Lance in response just gasps then laughs light-heartedly as he withdraws his legs from the clingy fabric, his thighs seemingly less sensitive than before.

Shiro rearranges a couple pillows before lying back on them, he motions for Lance to get into position.

Lance seems nervous at first, he bites his lip and gets closer before turning around to face Shiro’s feet, the bottom of his shirt covering his butt. Lance carefully positions his knees against the bed on either side of Shiro’s torso, shuffling back until the backs of his thighs barely reach Shiro’s armpits.

“Have… have you done this before?” Lance asks, flinching a little when Shiro pushes the shirt up Lance’s back. Lance’s hole is small and pretty, in clear view, it clenches upon the sudden scrutiny.

“No,” Shiro replies, he spreads Lance’s ass cheeks apart a little more with his hands, squeezing them, enjoying how fatty they are in his palms. He’s eager to see all the ways he can make them jiggle and shake, he plans on making Lance’s body addicted to his touches, to his kisses, to his presence. Shiro sort of wants to bite Lance’s ass but knows if he does that then Lance will most likely hit him or worse—stop what they’re doing immediately.

“I’m the first guy you’re going to eat out?” Lance quivers, his voice shy.

“First guy, ever, really,” Shiro admits. Lance is the first guy to ever tempt Shiro like this, to make him want more than comfort, to be greedy like this. Shiro rubs the pad of his thumb over Lance’s asshole, it puckers under the touch. He thinks he even heard Lance make a small noise in his throat.

“Really?” Lance repositions his hands on the bed, by Shiro’s hips.

“Really,” Shiro confirms, “have you ever.. been licked like this? Before?” he becomes unreasonably jealous when he thinks of Lance in Garrison, fooling around with another boy and sharing pleasure shocking experiences between themselves while Shiro was there too, in the background, too occupied with his own jobs and educations to pursue the same experiences.

He’s glad that Lance is pulling this out of him, his desire. He thought he had lost the appeal in it overtime.

“Eaten out before?” Lance rephrases the question, “nah,” he shakes his head, “you’re my first.”

Shiro can feel his dick jump at that, how Lance’s voice became hushed when admitting Shiro is his first. He grips the fronts of Lance’s thighs, pulling Lance back more before sweeping his tongue over Lance’s asshole.

Lance gasps this time, hands fisting up in the bedsheets.

Shiro can barely taste anything at all, that sterile scent still lingering on Lance’s flesh. He licks again, saliva sliding down his tongue to coat Lance’s crevice. He occasionally uses the tip of his tongue to trace down the line of Lance’s perineal raphe to curl his tongue around one of Lance’s balls to gently suckle on it. Though he’s never done this before and is mostly aimless on what he’s doing, just exploring—it’s turning him on violently, especially the shaky pattern of Lance’s breathing when Shiro sucks on one of his balls.

“Oh my god, Shiro,” Lance’s thighs shake when Shiro briefly presses the tip of his tongue inside, the muscles of Lance’s rim pushing him out on instinct.

Shiro breathes out over the saliva drenched asshole then drags his tongue over it unhurriedly. Now he really tries to work Lance open instead of just teasing. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to get his tongue inside, squirming it inside. Lance subtly rocks his hips down, on Shiro’s tongue.

Shiro breathes solely through his nose, eyes pinched shut as he focuses on what he’s doing, sometimes overlooking his strength and grips Lance more tightly than intended.

Shiro pulls back suddenly when the waistband of his boxer briefs gets pushed down, his erection springing free and smacking against his own abdomen before standing, curved.

“Shit,” Lance breathes close to the tip, “you’re damn hard, Takashi Shirogane,” he wraps his hand around the base of the dick as he sweeps his tongue over the slippery head, Shiro’s knees jump, “let’s get these out of the way,” he begins pushing down Shiro’s boxer briefs completely, Shiro maneuvers his legs in helpful ways until Lance flings the underwear over the edge of the bed.

“L-Lance,” Shiro can feel himself growing painfully more hard to Lance’s touches, “wai—“ his legs spasm when Lance drops his head, Shiro’s dick sliding into the  _tight_ , wet, warmth of Lance’s mouth, “ah!” Shiro’s head falls back hard onto the pillow he’s resting against. Lance isn’t giving him any time at all to get used to the sensation, overwhelming him as he starts bobbing his head, making these obscenely wet noises and faint gagging sounds. Lance’s mouth is small, outstandingly small with Shiro’s fatty dick inside of it, filling it to the brim.

Lance pops off Shiro’s swollen dick with a pleased exhale, pumping his fist over Shiro’s saliva covered cock, “you taste so good, so fucking good,” he practically moans as he licks up the curve and  _kisses_  the tip, “ _fuck_ ,” he bites out as if he had just walked out of his house without his car keys, “your dick is so hard for me and you’re eating me out, holy fuck,” he mutters, tightening his grip as he continues to jerk his dick leisurely.

Shiro can’t even concentrate properly on eating Lance out now, too caught off guard from Lance basically throating his entire dick. Lance is truly a dangerous person, especially when he makes Shiro’s knees shake just by taking his dick into his throat that reasonably tightens around the intrusion. It should be a painful thing to do but Lance moans as if it were the best food he has ever eaten, his moans vibrating around Shiro’s leaking erection, unfair to Shiro’s crumbling composure.

“Fuhh..” Shiro pants, eyebrows pressed tightly together as he resists the urge to thrust up into Lance’s face. He’s the one who was supposed to be giving pleasure but Lance flipped that switch real quick.

He laps at Lance’s asshole again, with more attentiveness and desperation. He shoves his tongue in as deeply as he can, his saliva smearing over his lips as he moves his tongue in uncoordinated movements. He’s electrified when Lance starts rocking his ass back against Shiro’s face, Lance’s moaning becoming messy as he mouths at the base of Shiro’s erection, Shiro can feel Lance’s saliva sliding down to his balls and pelvic.

Shiro is lost in licking Lance open, enjoying how Lance’s body quakes above him, how Lance’s bobbing dick is dotting his chest in pre.

“St- _OH_ -p,” Lance suddenly jolts forward, Shiro’s hands holding his thighs determinedly in place, Lance’s ass tightens up around his tongue, “stop! Takashi!” Lance whines, “I need—I need you inside me right now,” he makes a point by gripping the girth of Shiro’s dick firmly, it’s almost painful.

Shiro winces, letting go of Lance’s thighs, watching the wetness of Lance’s ass glisten while he crawls away hurriedly. A sight Shiro won’t forget, a sight Shiro will think about over a morning cup of coffee, a sight that he’ll think about during a conversation with the other Paladins.

“It should be here,” Lance murmurs as he shuffles around his pillows, with how many pillows Lance has it occurs to Shiro that it won’t take a whole lot to role-play their Prince and Knight fantasy after all, “oh!” Lance goes to the furthest corner, “found it.”

“Found what?” Shiro asks, pushing himself further up the pillows he’s sunken into. He wipes his mouth of smeared drool.

Lance turns and crawls back on top of Shiro, facing him this time, “my lube,” he waves around a clear bottle with foreign dialect on the front, inside the liquid is clear too.

“Where did you get that?” Shiro enjoys the warmth of Lance’s inner thighs against his waist, his hips hovering above Shiro’s, the stretched out shirt covering Lance’s naked form again.

“The mall, one of the shops had them in one corner,” Lance smiles, he pops the cap open and pours some of the lube over his carefully curled fingers, “they also had condoms for different species, makes me curious on what their sex organs are like,” he closes the cap of the bottle, tossing it aside before lifting up the bottom of the shirt with his free hand while his other hand goes behind himself. Lance’s erection bobs and it makes Shiro restless, “Jesus, Shiro,” he laughs breathily, “you really went for it, huh? I’m so…  _wet_ ,” he makes a cute focused expression as he works his fingers between his ass cheeks, “you want me that bad?” his typical confident air comes back.

Shiro is rubbing Lance’s thighs again, hands like magnets to them, “yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, it isn’t something he needs to think about, he wants Lance, he wants him bad, “I do,” his hands slide up to Lance’s hips. Lance just stares at him, he looks surprised at what Shiro said, “do you want me?” Shiro asks, a small swirl of anxiety starts inside him.

Lance inhales through his nose, “do you have to ask? Haven’t I been obvious? I want you more than… more than anything, more than my home,” his voice is unbelievably soft.

Shiro tightens his grip on Lance, something squeezes around his chest. He knows that home is all that Lance wants—everyday.

“You can’t mean that,” Shiro says, still shocked. How could he be better than home for Lance? He’s barely himself anymore, broken pieces sewn together haphazardly, a mess of anxiety. He shouldn’t even be dragging Lance down like this—

“Shh,” Lance uses his dry hand to press slim fingers over Shiro’s lips while he rests his other hand over the top of his thigh, “I mean it, I do,” his eyes seem more blue than before, than ever, “you can be my home,” his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, “if you’re serious about me.”

Shiro grabs Lance hand and kisses those fingers that linger on his lips, thinking of all the awaiting whispered endearments that they’ll soon carry, “I think I already made you my home,” Shiro admits, a whisper.

Lance smiles, closed lips, he swallows again and licks his lips, “good, make me your home,” he exhales, “take me, completely,” he drops his hips slow, using his lube slick hand to grab Shiro’s still hard dick, pressing it between his asscheeks, over his hole, “feel that? Feel how wet I am? How you made me this way?” he rubs his tight hole along the length of Shiro’s dick.

Shiro’s thighs twitch as the sudden sensation of Lance, “yeah, I feel you,” his hand is still on Lance’s hand that’s grabbing his wide jaw gently. Keeping him focused.

Lance takes his hand away to brace it on Shiro’s chest, his other hand properly aligns the tip of Shiro’s dick, pressing it firmly against the pucker of his ready asshole.

Shiro locks into Lance’s strong gaze, Lance’s jaw falls as he exhales measuredly, his hips lowering now, Shiro’s dick pushing inside.

Shiro’s hands dive under Lance’s shirt to hold his hips again, they’re shaking slightly.

“Oh, fuuuck,” Lance tips his head back when the head of Shiro’s cock slips inside, instantly surrounded by Lance’s insides, “you’re really big,” he looks back down at Shiro, amazed, star stuck.

Shiro’s toes curl, pleasure surging through his veins, it feels like Lance is radiating pure heat, burning him. He slides his hands up, to Lance’s waist that’s so small between his hands.

Lance takes his guiding hand away once Shiro is inside, wiping the excess lube on the sheets before placing his hands on Shiro’s tight set arms, “you wanna be inside entirely?” Lance questions, clearly already knowing the answer, he’s doing this to rev Shiro’s engine.

“Yes, yes,” Shiro’s jaw shudders, he can feel Lance’s body trying to suck his dick further in, squirming around it.

Lance drops his hips down heavily, the noise of their skin smacking together sounds under the yelp that erupts from Lance, Shiro thrusts up off beat.

“Shit!” Shiro reaches up, roughly yanking Lance down into a much needed kiss, Shiro’s other hand sliding behind Lance to grab a handful of ass, his finger fleetingly feeling Lance’s rim that’s so snug around the base of Shiro’s dick that feels like it’s melting in the suffocating heat of Lance’s body.

“Grab my ass,” Lance eagerly begs into Shiro’s mouth, “fuck me on your dick, help me move,” he starts bouncing his hips, hands scramble to Shiro’s wrists, guiding his other hand to the other cheek of his ass.

Shiro is enthusiastic to follow the command, firmly holding Lance’s bottom helping him move more quickly and precisely. Lance’s hands fall to the bed, fisting up in the bedsheets as his voice becomes a wanton mess when they finally get into motion.

Shiro digs the heels of his feet into the bed as he uncontrollably bucks up into Lance while finding a harsh rhythm, his balls bouncing, “ _Lance_ ,” Shiro grunts, making a weird noise in his throat when their lips clumsily slip together, he can’t even form coherent words. Lance sounds like he’s genuinely sobbing.

“I feel so full,” Lance’s voice is tight, clipped, “so good, so so good,” his eyelids flutter as he shifts his knees, attempting to move faster, “shit!” his hands clamber onto Shiro’s biceps, “right there, right there! You’re hitting something!” he pulls up his shirt and bites into the fabric, holding it up, Lance’s shiny dick is bouncing, dribbling strings of pre-come.

Shiro loves how verbal Lance is, his stomach clenching as he desperately holds back his orgasm that’s building startlingly fast, his dick absolutely pouring pre-come inside of Lance that’s hugging the shape of Shiro’s cock so well.

“God!” Shiro barks, lurching forward, slamming Lance down on his back. Lance shouts in shock before accepting the new position with passion, wrapping long legs around Shiro’s waist as Shiro begins to thrust harshly into Lance. Shiro can barely contain his strength as his hands chase down Lance’s, his fingers slipping in the spaces between Lance’s fingers as he stretches Lance’s arms above his head, pressing the backs of his hands into the bed.

“Shiro, Shiro,” Lance’s body squirms, trapped completely beneath Shiro, no escape.

“Yeah?” Shiro responds, guttural as he rubs his face against the side of Lance’s neck. They’re both covered in a sheet of sweat, Lance’s natural scent becoming more prominent.

“I’m gonna come,” Lance tightens his hold on Shiro’s hands, boney fingers hurting his human hand somewhat, his cybernetic hand completely incapable of feeling such sensations, “kiss me,” Lance mewls, “and fuck me harder, I know you can do it,” his breathing is ragged and hot against Shiro’s temple.

Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice, kissing Lance fervently now, as if he’ll never be able to kiss these reviving lips ever again. His movements are heavier now, more forceful as he drives his hips into Lance’s ass, his dick aching for release as it rubs against the squirming walls of Lance’s ass, unable to withstand the mind numbing sensation any longer.

Lance sounds like he’s crying again, his knees trembling as his legs slide further up Shiro’s body, “right there!” Lance sobs into Shiro’s mouth before chasing him into another kiss when Shiro leans back a little, probably afraid that Shiro may pull away.

Shiro is mindful of his teeth the deeper they kiss, he knows Lance comes the moment Lance stifles an intoxicating wail of pleasure while he writhes hard, his insides clenching wildly tight around Shiro’s cock. Shiro can’t hold back anymore, he slips one hand from Lance’s to wrap his arm around Lance’s waist, holding him so close that they can no longer get any closer to each other, their humid stomachs slipping together. Lance’s free hand slaps against Shiro’s back, fingers curling against his skin, fingernails biting into the thick skin of his back.

Shiro’s hips stutter when his orgasms rushes out of him, his body shuddering as Lance’s body sucks the semen that spurts from him. Shiro’s mouth is open against Lance’s throat when Lance’s head falls back, his lips parted while he pants heavily, his hand still in Shiro’s cybernetic one.

Sensitive shocks of pleasure ripples through him while he gradually comes down from his high, he presses sated kisses to Lance’s throat and chest, around the bunched up shirt. He even licks at Lance’s sweaty skin, relishing in the salty taste.

Lance swallows, “Jesus,” he croaks, his legs are trembling when he unfolds them from around Shiro, bending his shivering knees.

“You alright?” Shiro asks, his voice thick as he kisses at the drool that leaks from the corner of Lance’s mouth.

“Is my brain still in my head?” Lance asks, using his available hand to push back Shiro’s bangs that cling to his forehead.

Shiro laughs, checking the area around Lance’s head for show, “it is.”

“I don’t think it is,” Lance snorts humorously.

They disconnect their hands when Shiro props himself up, sitting back, dick still inside of Lance’s comforting heat.

Lance lazily pushes the damp shirt off his body, tossing it to the floor, “I’m melting, it’s so hot,” he grins serenely at Shiro, “damn…” he reaches out, running his hand down the length of Shiro’s cybernetic arm, “you’re so divine.”

Shiro grabs Lance’s hand with his Galran arm before it slips away, rubbing his thumb over delicate fingers, “not as nearly as divine as you, Lance,” his voice is low, taking in the sight of Lance’s short hair that’s thoroughly bent and sweaty, his skin a healthy glow.

Lance in response flushes a deeper colour than he already is, wordless.

Shiro tightens his muscles a little to show off to Lance when Lance’s friendly hands pet over his torso, tracing his defined abs.

“Let’s shower, before there’s another drill testing our punctuality,” he purses his lips and moves his head in a way to mimic Allura when she’s lecturing them.

“Don’t jinx us,” Shiro smiles, he rubs Lance’s thighs before pulling out slowly, his wet dick slipping from Lance’s hole. He expects to see semen drip out of Lance gaping hole that eventually winks at him but no semen comes out. His dick twitches when he knows for a fact his semen is inside of Lance right now, all of it.

Lance closes his knees as he moves away for more room to sit up, “hold my hand?” he holds one out.

Shiro gladly takes his hand, thinking of Prince Lance who would most likely demand instead of asking, if their ranks had been reversed.

They both go to the bathroom, Shiro sparing glances every so often to watch the enticing sight of Lance’s ass jiggling while he walks or digs around for certain things like special conditioner or extra towels.

“Do you have a preference for the temperature of the water?” Lance asks while he starts it, unaware of Shiro staring openly at his ass now, reminding himself that he just had his cock in there, that he had is tongue in there.

“More on the hotter side,” Shiro moves closer, sliding his hand over the roundness of Lance’s ass. Lance moves back into his hand, relieving Shiro’s hesitance.

“Really? Same for me,” Lance’s fingers dance in the water when the shower setting is on.

They step in, Shiro helping Lance in first.

It feels good, standing under the stream of hot water, the temperature just right for him. His heart gets that butterfly sensation again when Lance hugs him from behind, kissing Shiro’s back. Shiro places a hand over the ones that are overlapped on his chest, he can definitely get used to this, compared to his usual quick showers and the late night lonely showers.

“Do you have a shampoo scent you like?” Lance asks, pulling away from Shiro much to his dismay, wanting to stand there with Lance longer.

“Not particularly,” he turns to Lance who’s looking at a shelf of bottles that Shiro can’t really grasp fully, he only has two in his own shower, shampoo and rarely used conditioner along with his bar of body soap. Lance has, like—six bottles.

“This one is my favourite,” Lance pulls out one bottle, popping it open and hovering it near Shiro’s nose for him to sniff, “it’s peach scented,” Lance clarifies as Shiro smells it, it is a pleasantly sweet smell. Shiro recalls smelling this at some points in the past, never pinpointing the source of it before now.

Shiro holds out his palm, Lance squirts some in his hand then does the same to himself.

The rest of their shower is enjoyable, also amusing when Lance lathers up his body soap to the extreme, an endearing habit. Shiro’s dick fills a little as he watches the soap foam slide down the curves of Lance’s wet body.

They turn on the dry setting of the shower, their bodies hugged by a warming sensation. They sort some towels between themselves when they step out, Shiro rubbing his body fully dry while Lance pats his body dry.

“I have some clothes I got from Hunk that you can use,” Lance says as he discards his towel, plucking his robe off the hook in the bathroom and sliding it on over his shoulders. Everything Lance does is elegant, Shiro concludes.

Shiro secures his towel around his hips as he follows Lance out into the room. It’s an uneasy realization that Lance does indeed have a lot of Hunk’s clothes.

“Why do you have his clothes?” Shiro asks in the most curious tone he can make, not letting his jealousy show through.

Lance digs in his clothing drawers, “well Hunk has gotten more buff from the physical doings of all this daily saving the galaxy biz,” he unfolds a large red shirt before putting it back and unfolding a black one, “he just gives me the shirts that feel too tight on him since he knows I like sleeping in baggy shirts sometimes,” he looks at Shiro and somehow notices right away, “oh, we never had that kind of relationship,” he gives a reassuring nod, “he’s just my close friend.”

Shiro mentally chastises himself, for becoming unreasonably envious over every relationship Lance has, “I’m sorry, I know, but,” he shifts his weight between his feet, “uh, I have some clothes that don’t fit me either so... maybe I can give them to you,” he lies, he fits his clothes just fine. He just wants to see Lance walking around wearing his clothes instead of Hunk’s.

“No worries, man, and,” he licks his lips, eyes darting away, “I’d appreciate the clothes,” Lance gives him the black shirt along with grey boxers, “the boxer shorts are mine, I think they’ll fit you though, at least until you go to your room to change,” he glances at the clock, “we need to make an appearance for dinner before Keith thinks you actually ate me,” he slides a leg out of his robe, motioning toward the love bites and hickeys that have darkened considerably.

Shiro flushes now, he’s actually proud of those marks, “I can go to my room to change before dinner,” he slips on the shirt, it’s baggy on him which makes him recognize how much larger Hunk is, the towel drops to the floor as he pulls on the boxer shorts, they’re snug but comfortably so.

When he looks up Lance is staring at him, an unguarded expression, “what is it?” Shiro asks as he fluffs out the shirt on himself, he’s only ever seen Lance stare at him with this expression once, when he was just out of the pod.

“Oh,” Lance blinks, “nothing… just, still trying to find ground,” he huffs a laugh that’s barely audible, “I’m just going to go moisturize and get dressed now,” he turns back to his clothes that he’s digging through and gathers some up, going into the bathroom with them in his arms.

Shiro nods then wanders away, to Lance’s desk again. He finds courage to pick up one of the ratty books, he expects it to be a random historic book but when he opens it it’s a fast realization that it’s actually a journal, Lance’s handwriting filling the pages that sometimes have pictures or another flat object wedged in there or taped down. He flips through the pages randomly until he finds a page that makes him freeze in place, his blood pumping faster as he stares at a picture of himself, pre-Kerberos mission when he had full black hair and no scars. He slides the picture aside to read the entry below a written date.

_Holy crow, today has been the wildest day of my life, no competition. We had a sucky flight simulator class at the beginning of the day, then Hunk and I snuck out after curfew and ran into Pidge who was on the roof doing his weird tech-y stuff. Suddenly a ship crashes in front of Garrison outta no where, and who was on that ship? TAKASHI FRICKING SHIROGANE_

_Pidge worked his tech magic and hacked into the official Garrison cameras to see what was happening down there where Shiro was trying to warn the Garrison officials about ALIENS but they totally ignored him (a legendary man, I don’t get how they could do that). Then Keith and his stupid mullet showed up while we were planning to rescue Shiro first, as if I was going to sit back and let Keith steal all the thunder. We teamed up together in the end, Keith’s little speeder barely fit all of us while we got away. His driving was awful by the way._

_I got to hold Shiro, well a part of him, his arm specifically. He looks totally different now, he has an alien arm and a huge scar across his face! He looks way more badass but still ridiculously attractive. Seeing him up close was totally crazy, I went full dumb just staring at him. The dude has super small pores. I won’t go on about him again since I’ve done that a lot in this journal already but I’m still in shock that he’s alive after all this time. He smells really good too, even when he’s been to hell and back, he’s so much more handsome in person than all the pictures and videos I’ve see of him, I really want to try kissing him once—_

Shiro jumps, startled when the journal is snatched from his hands, his picture slipping out and falling to the floor.

Lance hugs the book close to his chest, he’s panting, eyes wide in horror, his face completely flushed, “you… what did you read?” he looks down at the picture of Shiro from Garrison that’s laying on the floor.

Shiro picks it up first, before Lance can hurt himself diving at it, “I read some of it,” Shiro admits, not wanting to lie to Lance of all people. He still wants to scan through the pages and find all mention of him in there, and learn even more about Lance’s life before their paths crossed, “Lance,” he says, not knowing what else to say. So this is what Lance meant when he theorized that they’ve been pining after each other, Lance has been carrying these feelings for Shiro way before they’ve personally met.

“This is embarrassing, so embarrassing,” Lance steals the picture from Shiro’s hands, turning away to tuck it back in the pages, his shoulders hunched. He’s wearing a black long sleeved shirt that’s fitted to his body and baggy lounge sweatpants, his Blue Lion slippers on his feet.

Shiro feels guilty now, he invaded Lance’s privacy and caused Lance to feel this anxiety, “I’m sorry,” he brushes his hand along the curve of Lance’s shoulders. Lance turns toward him, his lips pressing together in unease, “I know I’ve said that a lot already but I shouldn’t have done that, I was being selfish,” he looks Lance in the eyes when he cups his small face, even smaller between his hands, “I won’t do it again.”

Lance sighs softly, “thank you, I just… what I wrote is embarrassing,” he leans his cheek into the warmth of Shiro’s human hand, “I don’t want you to see all that stuff, man… you might think I’m some weird fan or something.”

Shiro laughs, leaning in and pressing his lips to Lance’s, Lance inclines into it quickly and puts a hand over Shiro’s artificial one, “I want to see all of you, no matter how embarrassing you think it may be, also..” he kisses him once more, “it was inflating my ego reading what you wrote, can I see a little more?” he tries to reach for the book, half-jokingly.

“No!” Lance gasps, spinning away from Shiro and holding the book further away, “you’re so sly!” Lance exclaims as he stuffs the book into one of his clothing drawers, “don’t you dare look at it ever again.”

Shiro gets into a pounce stance, causing Lance to get into a stance too, staying between him and the dresser.

“Takashi,” Lance threatens, raising an eyebrow, “don’t do it.”

Shiro bites his lip, mostly as a way to conceal his wide smile, he feels insane whenever Lance says his given name, “I love when you call me that,” Shiro says, fingers twitching.

Lance is beaming now, spreading his arms wider, “go get changed, before I physically kick you out of this room.”

Shiro steps forward, Lance flinches in reaction, “try it.”

It’s silent until Lance shrieks, running toward him. Shiro ducks and runs directly into Lance’s torso, effortlessly hoisting Lance over his right shoulder, hugging his thighs while he fruitlessly kicks.

“You’re bigger than me!” Lance tugs at his shirt, his stomach shaking when his laughter bubbles through, “that was unfair!” he actually laughs now, “best two out of three?” he asks.

“Winner gets the journal?” Shiro inquires, hopeful until Lance lifts his shirt, sharply pinching the fat of his hip, “ow!” Shiro quickly sets Lance down onto his feet to save his hips from any further torment at Lance’s literal hands.

“Let’s go to dinner now,” Lance shakes his head with a cute grin that Shiro wants to kiss until he’s kissing those white teeth as Lance laughs, Lance shoves at Shiro who doesn’t budge, “go get changed.”

They both stiffen when there’s a knock at Lance’s room doors.

“Lance!” Hunk’s identifiable voice calls through them.

Lance darts toward the door excitably before stopping, looking at Shiro, both of them are uncertain.

Shiro steps toward the bathroom until Hunk speaks again, “Shiro? I know you’re in there already,” he explains, tapping on the door again, “Keith is here too!”

Lance groans now, “seesh, who arranged this party?” he whispers then looks to Shiro again, “do you want to hide in the bathroom?”

Shiro just sighs helplessly, not mad at this situation at all, “no, I’m fine right here.”

Lance’s brightens up to his answer, stepping up to the doors, they slide open for him.

Hunk is seen first, smiling wide, a perfect clone of the sun, he’s holding a tray with two plates of round flat jelly looking things on it, “Lance! You’re looking a lot better.”

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Lance says, Shiro’s the only one who catches the underlying innuendo hidden in his tone, “flan!” Lance suddenly shouts, visibly holding himself back from snatching that tray from Hunk when he looks at it, “Hunk!” he exhales, delighted as he stares up at Hunk with admiration, “dude, no way.”

Hunk chuckles, “I thought you needed a little pick me up,” he raises the tray briefly, referring to them, “I brought them to you so you don’t need to come out for dinner while you’re resting,” he laughs again, this time guiltily, “everyone else is having my other batches for dinner, actually.”

Lance takes the tray when Hunk hands it to him, Lance runs to put it on his desk before running back to Hunk and throwing himself onto him for a tight hug. Shiro shifts on his feet again, trying not to be jealous of this.

Keith steps out from behind Hunk when they finish hugging, “Lance?” he moves closer, he glances at Shiro for a second before continuing, “I’m sorry for being really hard on you for training, it wasn’t my intention to get you hurt.”

Lance pats Keith’s shoulder, “I’m alright now, thanks for that though, I wish I had that apology on video.”

“Psh,” Keith breaks composure now with a humoured snort, “as if.”

“Actually,” Lance starts, “I may have a camera around here, wait a tick.”

“Bye!” Keith hurries away, pulling at Hunk’s arm to follow him.

“Enjoy the food!” Hunk calls before the doors shut again.

Shiro shakes his head, too amused by their interactions, he looks at the tray now, “what are these?”

“They’re flan,” Lance says as he picks up the plates, holding one out to Shiro, “have one, Hunk brought one for you.”

Shiro takes the plate, inspecting the food. It’s a pale orange color.

Lance eagerly cuts a piece off with his fork, when he eats it he moans in a similar way to when he was sucking on Shiro’s dick, “oh my god,” he eats another piece. Shiro busies himself with cutting a perfect piece, trying not to replay Lance’s moan.

“My auntie made these all the time, hers always taste the best but this is a close second,” he eats more, “and it’s alien food! Hunk is a genius, his is a lot more sweet than eggy which isn’t bad, actually, I prefer my flan to be on the creamier side. Also I don’t think we even have eggs here at all here, I wonder what he used,” Lance is brighter when he talks so keenly like this.

Shiro takes his first bite, the flavors reveal themselves in a line, the ending taste is an ever so slightly burnt sugary taste after an overlying rich sweetness, “wow,” he says when Lance watches him, wanting a reaction, “I haven’t had anything like this before,” he takes a bigger bite, the sweetness revealing itself more. He’s unsure about the texture of the food but won’t deny it’s acquired taste, “I wonder what your home flan tastes like now.”

Lance’s eyes glimmer, “maybe you’ll taste it someday.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. He wants that.

They both lean against Lance’s desk as they enjoy their dessert, Lance explains his family dinners that were always very loud, crowded and roaring with laughter. Lance says it’s a great distraction for when he’d sneak desserts from the kitchen, eating them in the back yard with the family dogs keeping him company. Until his mom would find him and bring him something to drink and a plate of actual food.

When it’s time for them to sleep Lance prepares for bed in his bathroom while Shiro leaves to his own room, getting some of his own clothes and Lance’s jacket he forgot in there.

“Oh! My jacket,” is the first thing Lance says when Shiro comes back, “where was it?”

“In my room,” Shiro hands it to him, “I tried to use it to help me sleep while you were inside the medicinal pod.”

Lance sets the jacket aside and hugs Shiro.

Shiro exhales as he tightens his arms around Lance’s slim body.

“Why didn’t you just sleep in my room?” Lance asks, rubbing his hand along Shiro’s back. It relaxes him.

“I didn’t want to do that without your permission,” Shiro presses his face into the crook of Lance’s neck, they both smell alike—peaches.

“You’re really proper and official like they said in articles about your interviews,” Lance cups the back of Shiro’s neck with his hand, “you’re welcome in my room anytime, even if I’m gone.”

Shiro squeezes Lance tighter when he says ‘ _gone_ ’, as if that’s ever a possibility.

They cuddle again when they lie down in bed, the lights completely off. This time they’re more intimate now that they’re boyfriends, Lance is tucked under Shiro’s cybernetic arm, drawing lineless doodles across Shiro’s chest with his fingers. Shiro takes that chance to hold Lance’s delicate fingers again, playing with them gently by harmlessly bending them and running his thumb over his knuckles, feeling their shape and curves.

When he drifts into the comfort of sleep that comfort rapidly contorts into one of his nastiest memories, of when he became conscious after the operation of replacing his arm with the cybernetic Galran one.

He’s strapped to the table cruelly, thrashing when he sees his new arm, the panic strangling him when he takes in the cold hard fact that he can’t properly feel with this arm, that it isn’t his real arm, that he’ll never have his real arm ever again.

He’s screaming when he struggles against the straps keeping his body disturbingly in place, trying hard to snap them even while knowing he can never do it. Strange faces are staring down at him, as if he were some interesting bug instead of a real human experiencing shock.

“ _Shiro_ ,” a voice calls, coming from no one in the room, coming from everywhere at once.

“ _Takashi_ ,” it calls again, louder and even toned, divine. Everyone in the room evaporates when Lance appears in front of him, looking down at him with intense concern as his hands pull away the straps over his body, like they’re nothing to his touch, falling away to his powers.

He wakes in a shuddery intake of breath, his head cradled between two soft hands.

“Shiro,” the real Lance says, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs, “you’re okay, you’re okay,” he takes his hands away when Shiro blinks more, levelling his breathing.

“Lance?” he says, looking around the room, he’s sweating. The lights are dim, a low setting, “what happened?”

“You got fidgety in your sleep, you even yelled,” Lance holds his hands together, “can I touch you?”

Shiro swallows, calming down faster than he usually does when he’s alone, “yes, touch me,” he needs that. Lance moves close, petting Shiro’s bangs back as he cups his face giving him a kiss that’s readily returned.

“Are you okay?” Lance asks as he continues raking his fingers through the short hair on Shiro’s head, “do you want to talk about it?”

Shiro is overwhelmed with this kind of needed attention, “um…” he looks at his artificial arm, “it was about when they took my arm, waking up and going into blind panic. Sometimes this arm just feels like a phantom.”

Lance carefully takes Shiro’s cybernetic arm, holding the fingers to his lips, “no one can fully understand what you went through,” he says, gentle, “but we’re here for you, always, this arm is a part of you now, it’s Shiro to me and I love all of you,” he rubs his cheek against the fingers, “this was a weapon but you changed its sole purpose, you became Voltron to save people who would have filled your place,” Lance’s blue eyes seem different when he looks at Shiro, his gaze seems raw and determined, “what they did to you does not define you, you are you to the very end.”

Shiro presses his lips together tight, his eyes feel too wet when he blinks. He uses his cybernetic hand to gradually cup Lance’s plump face, they ease into a warm kiss, “I love you,” Shiro says against Lance’s lips.

“I fell in love with you first,” Lance murmurs into their loving kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> shiro proving that love can happen in .02 seconds amiright
> 
> find me @erosuuki.tumblr.com!
> 
> i apologize for any mistakes, i will try to come back and fix them. thanks for visiting! hope to see you again :*
> 
> (my next fic title won't have the word 'love' in it i swear dsjkhg)


End file.
